How exciting: my partner and I finally going overseas together. Not really looking forward to the long flight but it has to be done. I wonder who will sit in the aisle seat. I must be getting older. Once upon a time I would hope to get a window, now I realise that strategically, the person in the aisle seat is standing (sitting actually) between me and the loo.
Oh, a body builder, oh joy.
Has anyone else noticed that men take for granted that they will get the sole use of the arm rest for the entire journey? I don’t know how they decide what to so when the person beside then is also male. Anyway, this fellow went one better: taking the small pillow provided (but not for this purpose) and putting it over the crook of my arm and onto my breast, he then plonked his over sized arm there. I felt so useful and fulfilled. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything, perhaps I was in shock.
So apart from eating and drinking it was going to be a long trip. Even eating was challenging. Try this: move your left hand in front of you and to the right and your right hand over to the left so that your elbows are together. Now try to reach out and do anything with your hands without moving your hands more than a foot in front of you. Well not quite that bad, but almost. The drinks steward stopped coming past us as a response to the bulk-man demanding as much free alcohol as possible. Vodka in one hand and rum in the other. Classy. I managed one drink before our steroid man fell into a snoring coma.
I was saved by the inflight selection of music which was extensive. As much as I basically passed out for a couple of hours, when we arrived at Bangkok, I was fairly cabbaged. As we landed, I could see this was the biggest airport I’ve ever seen (which means nothing as I had previously only ever travelled within Australia and to the north island of new Zealand). Our luggage was checked straight through to Chiang Mai so we just had to find the connecting flight. We had an hour and a half, so that would be easy.
As we left the plane, we had no idea which way to go but were swept along by the flow of people who, hopefully, did. As we passed through the gate, we had stickers attached to our chests so staff could locate lost tourists, no doubt. After following the bright yellow signs to domestic connecting flights, for about 20 minutes, we started to wonder just how far we’d have to walk. The next the sign advised another 1000 metres! Good thing we weren’t dragging our luggage with us. There were so many flights through the airport that we couldn’t see ours displayed on the flashing signs which alternated between Thai and English. When we ran out of signs, we asked someone who pointed and happily found our connection.
Our body builder went off to join his connecting flight to Phuket and then to yet more alcohol, no doubt.
Good thing our bags did arrive safely with us in Chiang Mai. We were to stay in Baan Boo Loo guest-house in the old city of Chiang Mai and were to be met there. “Baan Boo Loo” was written on a piece of cardboard held by a smiling man who spoke no English, so we followed him to our means of travel, a Tuk-Tuk or motorcycle with passenger compartment attached. He politely ignored my inelegant attempts to get in the back, requiring a gynecological examination like posture. The city flashed past, albeit at a relatively sedate pace as the two-stroke engine farted out kerosene fumes into the cool refreshing night air. This was fast enough as our luggage was swaying in the open-air compartment as we traversed the roads then sideroads then alleys like footpaths and then to our guest house where Orn waited to show us mercifully to our rooms and bed. Ah: horizontal… snore!